Sherlock and John Twins drabbles
by fantasybean
Summary: This is a sequal to my story 'sherlock and john are twins', read that first! These are drabbles of their life after the discovery that they are twins. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**Sherlock and John are twins drabbles.**

**Filler**

**Author's note: Hiya, if you've only just found this story, then you need to read my 'Sherlock and John are twins' story first and you will understand what is going on in this one. This is basically a missing scene from my main story 'Sherlock and John are twins' (set in chapter 22)! Enjoy! Please review! I will continue to update proper drabbles of their lives as twins together on this. Please review! Thank you!**

As the countdown counted down, John sat down on his chair and sighed.

"You're going to be fine." Rose said and rubbed his back.

"I'm not worried about dying." John said.

"Then what is it?" Rose asked.

"Will everything change now we know?" John asked.

"A bit." Hamish said.

"But probably for the better." Rose reassured him.

John nodded.

Suddenly the screen changed to Moriarty's face, but there was still the numbers counting down in the corner.

"I'm bored. So I want to watch some more telly." He said with a mischievous grin.

John groaned.

The screen changed, the countdown stayed but there was an image of Sherlock at the age of 5, it must have been after the separation. He stood at the top of a flight of stairs in his home.

"I want to feel something." He said.

Then he looked down at the bottom.

"Oh god." John muttered.

"No, please say he didn't." Harry said.

Sherlock threw himself forward and he tumbled down the stairs. The whole room held their breath.

Half way down the long stairs Mycroft ran out of a room from downstairs.

"Sherlock!" he cried out and rushed to stop his brother from falling. He caught him just before he reached the bottom.

The recording changed to Sherlock sat on a kitchen counter with Mycroft wiping away some blood from his cheek.

"Why did you do it, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked.

"I wanted to feel something. I feel... numb. I wanted to feel something, even if it was pain." Sherlock whispered.

The recording changed to John, who was sat at a desk at the age of five. He was writing and concentrating very hard.

Harry came to stand next to him and said "What are you doing, John?" she asked.

"I'm writing a letter, Harry." John replied.

"Who to?" she asked.

"Sherlock, of course! I'm not very good at writing, but Sherlock could always read it." John said.

"Don't be stupid, John, you're not allowed to write to him." Harry said.

John put his pencil down and looked angrily up at Harry.

"That's not true." He said shakily.

"John-"John cut her off.

"I don't like you anymore." He said and got off the chair. As he started to walk away he looked back at Harry, raised his hand and gave her back a smack.

"MUMMY! JOHN HIT ME!" Harry shouted.

"John Hamish Holm- Watson, you come here right now!" Rose's voice sounded through the room.

"That's not my name! My name is John. Hamish. Holmes!" John screamed.

Rose walked into the room and picked John up who struggled.

"I want you to stop this appalling behaviour, young man." She said and placed him on the bottom step of the stairs.

"You will stay here for five minutes then you will apologise to Harry and me." She said and walked to Harry who stood watching John.

"I don't like any of you!" John shouted and stood up and started jumping on the stairs and screaming "I want Sherlock! I want Daddy! I want Mycroft!" again and again.

Rose gave him a sharp look. He glared and said "You took my Sherlock away from me. I will never forgive you, mummy."

Rose looked heartbroken and John ran upstairs.

The five year old slammed his door and picked up a china ornament and chucked it at his wall with a scream.

Rose ran upstairs at the noise of her son screaming and the china smashing.

She opened the door to find John in the centre of his room, on his back, kicking and slamming his hands on the floor, he had completely flipped out. When he started banging his head on the floor Rose struggled to pick him up. She ended up knelt on the floor with John sat on her lap, sobbing brokenly.

"Ssshh, honey, it's alright. Everything will be okay." She consoled him.

"NO! NO IT WON'T!" John screamed.

Rose sighed and looked lost.

Then John had made himself so hysterical that he began gagging.

Rose couldn't do much more than rub John's back and talk to him comfortingly as he threw up on the floor.

The screen changed to Sherlock and John. This was a clip from before they were separated. They lay in their separate beds, facing each other.

"Sherlock?" John asked.

"John?" Sherlock replied.

"Will you be my best friend forever, no matter what happens?" John asked.

Sherlock sat up, climbed out of bed and got into John's. John moved over so they lay facing each other but closer for comfort.

"You'll always, always be my best friend. Will you be mine?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. And we'll be together forever too. When we have to leave home I want to live with you." John said.

"I want that too. We can have a home all on our own. It'll be our place. Just ours." Sherlock said with a smile.

"We could tell everyone else to go away. No-one but mummy and daddy can come in. And maybe My and Harry if they're nice." John said.

"And we'd never be lonely because we'll always have each other." Sherlock said.

"Yes. If we have each other then we'll never ever be lonely. We don't need anybody else." John said.

"John, let's sing the lullaby!" Sherlock said with an excited grin.

"Yeah!" John said, equally excited.

"When the sun comes, you're my shade. When the moon comes you're a little firefly. And I love you more than I can say. And I'll never fly away." Sherlock sang.

"I'm your firefly. I'm your shade. I wanna live in the house that we made. I wanna love you every day. And I'll never fly away." John sang back.

They laughed and their door opened.

Hamish walked in.

"Hey, what are you two doing up, my little rascals? And what are you doing in John's bed, Sherlock?" Hamish asked.

"Can he stay, please, daddy!" John pleaded. Sherlock nodded.

"Well okay, but just this once. Mummy wants you to start sleeping in your own beds." Hamish said.

"Hey, Sherlock, when we live together and we're older we can buy one big bed and share it." John said.

The older John groaned as sniggers ran around the room.

"Yeah!" Sherlock said with as much enthusiasm as his twin.

"Can I just clarify that we have separate beds!" Sherlock said from the kitchen.

"What are you two talking about?" Hamish asked.

"We want to live together when we're big people, daddy!" John said.

"Well that's a lovely idea. Now, beddy-byes, sleepy-time. No more chatting." Hamish said and kissed their temples and left.

"Night night, Sherlock, I love you." John said.

"Goodnight John, I love you too." Sherlock said and they closed their eyes.

The screen changed back to Moriarty. "Awww, look at you two." Moriarty teased.

"Are you aware that you both have comfort blankets made from each other's t-shirts? Go on John, go and get yours or I'll shoot Sherlock. And Sherlock, go and get yours or I'll shoot John." Moriarty raised his voice so it travelled to the kitchen where Sherlock was working.

Sherlock didn't protest, he just got up, walked to his bedroom and people could hear him rummaging around in cupboards. John sighed and pulling the oxygen tank with him, he made his way to his own bed room where his childhood comfort blanket that he had placed in one of his drawers.

Sherlock walked to the living room, placed a blue and white chequered shirt fit for a four year old down on his and John's seat and then turned to face Moriarty. John came down quickly after with a purple and white chequered t-shirt only slightly bigger than Sherlock's 'blanket'.

"Aw, I remember this, you'd never go anywhere without it, John." Harry commented, standing along with Mycroft to look at the two t-shirts.

"Neither would you, Sherlock. If I remember correctly you took it to University." Mycroft said with a smirk.

"You can't embarrass me, Mycroft. I honestly couldn't care less whether I had a comfort blanket. At least I didn't turn to food for comfort. Mine was a healthy comfort." Sherlock stated rudely.

"Okay, Sherlock, that's enough." Hamish warned.

"You see, My, John's much easier to embarrass. I do believe he took his to University too." Harry said with a smug smile.

John frowned and his cheeks flushed.

"I could die soon and you're still trying to take the mick out of me." John said.

"Yes, Moriarty is that all you wanted, because I really must get back to what I was doing." Sherlock said.

"No, I want you to take a five minute break and watch something, or I'll just shoot John." Moriarty said.

Sherlock sighed, picked up his comfort blanket and sat down. John, already holding his sat down next to Sherlock while Harry and Mycroft took their seats.

The screen changed to a twenty year old Sherlock with gingery blonde straight hair, which made him look a lot more like Hamish, jeans and a nice shirt.

"Your hair!" Anderson said in surprise.

Sherlock sighed in annoyance at Anderson and everyone turned back to the screen.

Sherlock was sat in an empty room against a door.

"I'm not an animal, Mycroft! You can't keep me locked up here. I'm not your prisoner!" Sherlock shouted.

The screen switched so that you could see both of them on either side of the screen sat on the different sides of the door.

"This is for your own good, Sherlock." Mycroft said.

"I need the drugs, Mycroft, I need them! You don't understand what it's like in my head!" Sherlock shouted.

"John would have known." Mycroft said.

"What?" Sherlock asked, Mycroft hadn't said it loudly enough for Sherlock to hear.

"I said that soon your body will feel odd. Like a drunk person, you're about to sober up. The drugs are leaving your body." Mycroft said.

This made Sherlock completely flip. He stood up and started slamming himself against a wall shouting "THIS IS WHAT YOU WANT ISN'T IT, MYCROFT? I'LL KILL MYSELF! I DO NOT FEAR DEATH! IT WILL BE A RELEASE FROM ME!"

Mycroft walked away and checked the cameras he had installed in the room. When Sherlock started ramming his head against the wall he ran down the corridors and opened and shut the door.

He pulled Sherlock away from the wall and into his lap. Sherlock had blood dripping over his face.

"Ssshh, little brother, sleep." Mycroft said.

Sherlock's eyes closed and he was gripping onto Mycroft's hand. With another hand he drew letters onto his brother's hand subconsciously.

The screen changed to Mycroft walking to Hamish.

"I saw what you had to do. Thank you for stopping him. What was he writing on your hand; he was writing something on your hand, what was it?" Hamish asked.

"Dad-"Mycroft hesitated.

"Tell me. I need to know." Hamish urged.

"John. He was writing the word John." Mycroft said.

"C-Can I go and see him?" Hamish asked.

"He's sleeping." Mycroft said but nodded.

Hamish opened the door and slipped in.

Sherlock lay on the floor. Blood on his face and in his hair. His plain pyjamas covered in it too.

Hamish knelt next to Sherlock looking broken. He lifted his youngest son up in his lap so Sherlock's upper half was resting against his dad.

"I'm so sorry, my son, I've failed you. I was blinded by grief of the loss of them and relief that I had you. I didn't see how bad you'd got." Hamish said. He knew Sherlock couldn't hear him.

Sherlock started talking in his sleep.

"John looks after me." Sherlock said.

"Sorry?" Hamish asked.

"Sometimes you can have a conversation with Sherlock when he's asleep." Hamish told everyone.

"John looks after me. He always will. He loves me. He's there. I see him all the time. But I never know his name until I'm sleeping. Then when I wake up I forget who he is. He's just my friend. My only friend. That's why I need the drugs." Sherlock said.

"What, so, you take the drugs and you see John? What does he look like?" Hamish asked.

"Yes, I see him. He's five years old, but he looks younger. He makes me smile and he keeps me sane. Don't make him go away, please." Sherlock whispered his last word.

"I'm sorry. The drugs are killing you, son." Hamish said sadly.

"No, no, no, no..." Sherlock said and stopped talking.

The screen changed.

John was about fifteen years old and he sat on a wall in between two other boys his age.

"Oh come on, John! How can you like classical? Violins are so boring, mate!" One boy said while the other laughed.

"Sherlock likes it, he's good at it and therefore I like it too." John justified himself.

The two boys stopped laughing.

"Who's Sherlock?" the other one asked.

John frowned "Who's who? Sorry, what are you talking about Dan?" John asked.

The screen changed to John at the age of sixteen, he was stood in a doorway watching Rose, who was writing a letter.

"Mum." He said.

She looked up and smiled "John." Then she frowned "What's wrong?"

John approached her and said "I feel... off. I don't know, it's like, I can't breathe but I know I am. Make it stop, mum, I don't understand." John looked panicked. The screen changed again to Sherlock at the same age, he was sat at a desk in his bedroom and was frowning.

Hamish walked in and started saying something but abruptly stopped when he saw the look on Sherlock's face.

"Son?" he called out and approached Sherlock.

"Make it stop." Sherlock said, looking up.

"Make what stop?" Hamish looked deeply concerned.

"I can breathe, but I can't. I don't like it and I don't understand." Sherlock said.

The screen changed to Sherlock at the age of four. A boy a little older than him pushed him over and onto the concrete ground of the playground.

Suddenly John stood in front of Sherlock with his arms crossed.

"Don't you hurt my brother." John said defiantly.

"And you're going to stop me? That freak deserves it, trying to be smarter than me!" The boy protested."

"I will stop you. And he is not a freak!" John said bravely.

"How are you thinking of stopping me then?" The bully said.

John scowled at him, then drew back and punched the boy in the nose.

The boy screeched and a teacher came running and quickly made sure the other boy was unhurt, a girl offered to take him to the school nurse and the teacher turned to face John and Sherlock. John was helping Sherlock off the ground and they gave each other a hug.

"And what on Earth did you do that for, John Holmes?" she asked strictly.

Sherlock and John drew away and John said "He called Sherlock a freak. And he pushed him over." John said.

"Is this true?" the teacher asked.

Sherlock nodded and said "John was helping me."

"But punching and hitting is not the answer. John, you will come with me to the head master." The teacher said.

"No! He was being good. The bully should go to the head masters. This is wrong!" Sherlock exclaimed and grabbed onto John's arm.

"No arguments." The teacher said.

"Can I come too?" Sherlock asked.

"Alright." The teacher said and led them to the office. The screen faded out and then back in and they were sat in between Hamish and Rose and sat opposite the headmaster.

"Hitting and kicking and punching is a serious thing, John. I cannot allow you to get away without a punishment." The headmaster said.

"Excuse me, but my son was only protecting his brother. This is wrong, what about the other boy who started all of this?" Hamish asked, he had an arm around John, who was gripping onto his dad's jacket.

"He will be punished too. But we must teach them that violence isn't the answer." The headmaster said.

"I don't like you." Sherlock said loudly to the headmaster.

"That may be, young man, but I must reinforce the rules." The headmaster said.

"You're mean. When I grow up, I will be better than you." Sherlock said.

Rose tried to hush her son but Sherlock jumped off the chair and said "John was being nice and good and you're punishing him. That boy was standing in a way that meant that he was going to hurt John, he would have done worse and he won't have a big punishment because he's got a bloody nose." Sherlock exclaimed.

The headmaster sighed and said "John will be suspended for a few days, as this is what happens to any student who punches, kicks or slaps. Jeremy will receive a lunch time detention for two days because he did not use violence and no adult saw him push you."

"I'm not coming to school if John isn't! I will teach him!" Sherlock said defiantly.

"Honey, you will come to school." Rose said gently.

"No I will not. And I don't want to come to this school either; I want to go to a better school." Sherlock said seriously.

"Harry and Mycroft both did very well at this school, Sherlock. And that isn't your decision to make." Hamish said.

Sherlock looked completely distraught and he did what he felt was best. He had a proper toddler tantrum, and he was four.

He threw himself to the floor and screamed, kicking and screaming and rolling around on the ground.

Hamish tried to stop John, but the small boy knelt next to Sherlock and pinned his arms down. Sherlock stopped and looked up at John.

"No, Sherlock." John said.

"I don't want to be away from you, John." Sherlock said quietly.

"It is only for a few days." John said.

Sherlock sat up and pulled John into a hug and said loudly "I want to go home." And burst into tears.

Rose gently separated the two and picked Sherlock up, bouncing him and rubbing the emotional boy's back.

Hamish picked John up and looked to the teacher "We will contact you when we have talked about this in private."

They walked out and Sherlock was saying through his tears "I don't want John to be away from me... Please... They'll be mean, they're always mean... and I won't have a friend." Sherlock cried.

Rose shushed him and the screen faded in and out till the two school uniformed boys were lay side by side on the couch, sleeping soundly. Hamish was pacing while Rose sat next to them.

"We can't let them go back there. You heard what Sherlock said, they're mean to him. He's bullied there, Rose!" Hamish said worriedly.

"But why didn't he say so before?" Rose asked.

"Because he had John. Because John was his friend, and when you have friends who protect you, which John does, then it probably isn't so bad. Come on, you remember Harry and Mycroft, they'd come home every day talking about their friends. John and Sherlock both do not do that. They just tell us what they do, and they have never told me about something that they did on their own, separately, they've always been together. But Sherlock is bullied. I presume because of his intellect." Hamish finished and added "We can't let them go back."

Rose nodded and said "Well, where else can they go?"

"Maybe we could get them a tutor, or we could send them to another school, it'll just be a bit further away." Hamish suggested.

"A tutor will be fine until we can find a better school." Rose finalised and said "Go and tell Harry and Mycroft it is dinner time - I think the chips will be done, they've been up playing in their room for ages."

Hamish walked out and Moriarty reappeared on the screen "Oh, so much drama with you two!"

"That was very kind of you, John. Not many people stick up for me." Sherlock said.

"Well, it's fine, assuming the fact that you had a tantrum for me." John said, making them both laugh.

Sherlock stood and said "I must go now." And returned to the kitchen.

"You both seem so human." Anderson said.

"We both are." John scowled.

"Yes, no, I mean, Sherlock seemed so... normal, despite his intellect." Anderson said.

"Are you saying he isn't normal?" John scowled.

"John, we really don't need a repeat of what we just saw on the screen." Harry commented.

John silenced her with a hand and continued to frown at Anderson "Just because I haven't punched you or Donavon in the face for calling him a freak and you insinuation that he isn't human, it doesn't mean I don't feel angry when you do. Before all this, at crime scenes, you called him 'freak', now I may not have known him to be my brother, but he was my best friend, I was and still am extremely annoyed at your rude comments toward him." John said.

"Then why haven't you done anything about it?" Sally asked.

"Because I'm not four any more and because I see that Sherlock has his own come-backs ready for you." John said.

"Calm down, my dears." Moriarty said "Tick tock, not long till the good doctor dies."

The counter was at Fifteen minutes left.

John frowned.

"I'm nearly finished." Sherlock mouthed to John who smiled in relief.

"We've still got time for some more scenes though." Moriarty said.

John sighed and Hamish said "It'll be alright, son." John nodded.

The screen changed to John, he wore surgeons clothing and had blood all over him. He was in some medical camp.

"Oh God." John said.

"DR WATSON, OVER HERE!" A soldier shouted.

John rushed forward to see a soldier placed on a bed, the person had bullet holes in his stomach, and more the a few. The wounded was young and still awake.

John smiled reassuringly at him before inspecting the wounds.

"Doctor... Doctor..." the young man choked out.

John gave a list of equipment he would need and nurses rushed off, then John turned his attention to the man.

"Hello there. Do you want to tell me your name?" John asked gently.

"... Stephens..." he choked out.

"First name, Stephens." John said with a small smile.

"Myles..." The man said.

"Alright, then, Myles, great name, I haven't met many Myles'. You're going to be fine. I'm going to give you some pain relief and I'll fix you right up." John said.

"What's... your... name?" Myles asked shakily.

"My name is John." John greeted him.

"Distract me... please, it hurts... tell me... about... you... I need... to concentrate... on some...thing!" Myles spluttered.

"Alright, alright, Myles I need you to stay calm and to stay still. I'm sure the nurses will be back with what I need soon." John said.

"Please..." Myles said.

"Okay... I don't know... I'm a bit common, John Watson, I wanted to be a doctor and a soldier, so I thought, hey, why can't I be both?" John said.

"Living the dream..." Myles almost laughed.

"Living the dream. I want to make a difference, and I'll do that by making sure you are okay today, Myles. Because you seem like a brave lad." John said.

"You... think?" Myles asked.

"Oh yeah, Myles Stephens, you're going to be great. So you just stay with me now." John was getting panicked, Myles' eyes were drooping and the small bandages already applied to stop the blood flow were doing little good now. John turned to the crack in the tent curtain and shouted "I need what I asked for NOW!"

John turned back to Myles and Myles grabbed his hand "Don't leave me, please, don't leave... me." Myles pleaded.

"I won't." John on the screen and John in the living room said.

Everyone looked at John in concern.

"Doctor Watson, three other wounded have been brought in, there aren't enough nurses." A soldier popped there head through the curtain and then ducked out again.

John's face fell and he closed his eyes. A few moments later they snapped open "Right then, Myles, I need you to stay awake and I need to take you to another part of this medical camp. But I'm going to have to carry you. I can get you pain relief there and I can get you patched up, how's that?" John asked.

"...O...Kay..." Myles said.

John slipped an arm under Myles' knees and his back and then lifted.

Myles screamed out and gripped onto John's shoulders.

"It's alright, you're alright," John said and stopped moving.

"Bloody hell that hurt..." Myles mumbled.

"I'm going to start moving now, Myles. We're not too far away." John promised and quickly walked through the camp, moving around soldier's sick beds.

Once John put him down on a stretcher where a lot of medical supplies were, he got a syringe of pain relief and quickly inserted it into Myles.

Myles sighed in relief and John began patching him up.

"You remind me of a guy I knew in College." Myles said.

"Really? Who?" John asked.

"Didn't know him that well. Sher Home or something, weird name." Myles said.

"How do I remind you of him?" John asked.

"I don't know. He's very different from you. And nobody liked him, he was rather blunt with everyone. He was clever, though, like a proper detective. I don't know, you just... remind me of him." Myles said tiredly.

"You'll be fine, Myles. You can sleep now." John said.

The screen changed to John, curled up on a camp bed, gun shots could be heard all around.

"Is our shift soon?" John asked.

"Have you even slept?" A person asked from near him.

"How can I? You know what; I don't care if it isn't my shift. I'm going to go and help." John stood and left.

The screen changed again to John, who was not in his surgeon clothes, but in his soldier clothes. He had the medical band around his arm and was behind some sand bags, only a few people with him and with nothing but a hand gun.

John looked over the sand bags to the bare deserted land and squinted, he could see someone. The focus became clearer and it was obvious it was a child, standing in the middle of a barren desert, probably only about five years old.

"Oh, Christ." John said.

A few gun shots were fired from somewhere on the other side.

John looked around quickly and the others knew what he wanted to do "No, Watson." A soldier said.

"Captain Watson, if you move from behind here you will probably get killed. If you move you will be in serious trouble." A higher ranking officer warned.

John looked back at the child.

"I won't leave that child to die." John said defiantly and jumped over the sand bags and he ran as fast as he could towards the child, who looked lost and in distress at the sudden gun shots that were fired around as they noticed the soldier running.

John sprinted over to the child, quickly picked the small boy up and ran all the way back, luckily avoiding all of the bullets, he ducked back behind the sand bags and the child stared at the soldier from where he sat on John's lap.

The child leant forward and curled up in the army-doctor's arms.

"It's alright." John whispered as he got his breath back.

John looked over at the man who had told him to stay.

"Well done, Captain Watson." The man said.

"Thank you, sir." John said, thankful that the man had changed his mind.

The screen changed again and John was running around, he and another man were the only alive amongst dead bodies.

John stopped and looked around in horror.

"Check for survivors, Murray." John said.

The John in the living room started breathing raggedly.

Sherlock rushed in and started checking the oxygen tank.

"What's wrong? Are you finding it difficult to breathe, John?" Sherlock asked.

John didn't say anything, he just pointed at the screen just behind Sherlock.

Sherlock turned to look and saw his brother's face, full of horror as he checked each body, looking for survivors, but there were surely none.

"Any, Murray?" John asked.

"Murray? The Nurse that saved your life? Oh." Sherlock knew what was about to happen. He sat on the arm of John's chair and put a supporting arm around his shoulder.

"I don't understand." Anderson said.

"Just... shut up, Anderson." John said.

"Hey! Just because he's your brother doesn't mean you can be as nasty as him!" Anderson protested.

"OH MY GOD! SHUT UP, YOU PATHETIC MAN!" Harry practically screamed.

"What is all you guys' problem?" Anderson asked, everyone was glaring at him, they knew what was going to happen, even Donavon.

"I can't... I can't watch..." John said and tried to stand up, but a little red dot appeared at his shoulder and Moriarty's voice rang out "I wouldn't do that if I were you." He giggled.

John sat down.

Harry burst into tears at the same time as Rose. Hamish held onto Rose while Mycroft held onto Harry. Sherlock kept his hand on John's shoulder.

"I'm sure it will be okay, dears." Mrs Hudson attempted to comfort the family, but it did little to help.

"It won't... trigger one of your PTSD attacks, will it John?" Harry asked shakily.

John looked over to her and said "I don't know."

"John. Just stay in the present day. You're not there; you're here, in 221B Baker Street with me and everyone here." Sherlock said.

John nodded and they all turned back to the television.

John sighed and stood up. Murray was nowhere in sight. John looked so tired and sad. There was the sound of a gunshot and John swung around to find where the source is.

"Murray!" John whispered frantically and looked around. Murray walked towards John quickly and they stood side by side.

"Where is it coming from, sir?" Murray asked.

"I don't know. But we need to leave, and now." John urged.

Another gunshot was fired and they started running, John just behind Murray was getting his gun out.

The sound of running came from behind them, Murray continued to run, but John stopped and turned around.

All you could see was John's sweaty and tanned face, terror in his eyed, he was breathing quickly.

Then they saw the man running after him, he had a gun.

John started to run again and as a shot flew just past him John turned around, ready to shoot when a shot fired out.

John screamed and fell to the desert floor.

Murray, who was far ahead now, looked back and started running towards John.

John raised his gun one more time as blood began to pool around his shoulder. He pointed it at the man who shot it and shot him. It hit his heart and the man died instantly.

John dropped his gun and screamed in pain, holding onto his wound, his hands getting quickly bloody.

Murray knelt next to John.

"John! John, tell me what to do! I'm just a nurse, I don't know. Please, John, speak to me." Murray urged.

John now had blood all over his shoulder, on the floor, on his face when he'd touched it with his hand.

"Help me... please... Bill..." John said.

"What do you need me to do?" Bill asked.

John whimpered and said "Get the... bullet... out." John screamed again.

John in the living room was gripping onto his shoulder and Sherlock was trying to keep him calm.

"It's alright, John. It's just a scar now." Sherlock said.

Rose was in hysterics, Hamish was crying and Harry was crying silently. Mycroft had a look of terror on his face.

The wounded John started muttering "I'm going to die... oh my god; I'm going to die... Please..." John muttered and his eyes were drooping.

"No, John, stay with me. Keep your eyes open. JOHN!" Murray shouted.

John's eyes flickered open and Bill clutched his hand and looked at John intensely seriously.

"You're going to live. You are not dying today, John Watson. But I need you to stay awake." Bill said.

John screamed as Bill did as John said. John's screaming was continuous as Bill dug around in the wound to get the bullet out.

Soon enough it was out and Bill was pressing against the wound.

John was incoherent and tears were running down his face from the pain.

"It's alright, John. Stay with me." Murray said and picked John up.

John groaned and was quickly losing consciousness.

"I'll get you back to base. I promise you will be alright." Murray said and John said "Please... God, let me live." And his eyes fell shut as Bill broke into a run.

John fell in and out of consciousness through the run until he cried out "Sherlock!" and then fell into the darkness completely.

The screen changed to Sherlock, who was at a crime scene. He was fine and conversing with Lestrade. Then he suddenly doubled over, his hand pressing to his shoulder as he shouted out in pain. All the officers frowned and turned towards him.

Lestrade out a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and said "Sherlock? What's wrong?"

"Shoulder..." Sherlock grinded his teeth and Lestrade helped him sit down on the floor.

"Is there a medic here?" Lestrade called out.

"Ah, Ben, you have the best training, come here." Lestrade instructed.

An officer knelt next to Sherlock and tried to pry the consulting detectives hands away from his shoulders.

"Sherlock? Mr Holmes? I need to see your shoulder." Ben said.

Sherlock shook his head "Please, let him live."

"Let who live?" Lestrade asked in concern.

Sherlock stood up and staggered onto a road, hailing a cab.

"Sherlock, you need help!" Lestrade said.

"Sir, I don't understand. He's fine. There was no blood as far as he would let me see. And nothing hit him, you were there." Ben said to Lestrade.

Sherlock got into the cab, quickly said his destination and curled up in the back of the cab.

Moriarty reappeared.

"Time is running out." Moriarty said. The clock said 5 minutes left.

Sherlock ran back into the kitchen.

"I have one more thing to do. Then I'm done." Sherlock said.

John nodded and Rose rubbed her son's back to give him an extra comfort.

"You still in the here and now, sweetheart?" she asked.

"Yes. Just... don't leave me for a bit." John requested and Rose nodded and held onto his hand.

And the countdown continued.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Thank you so much for your reviews / alerts / favourites! It means a lot. Every story I write means a lot to me, and to know that you are all enjoying them makes me incredibly happy! Please continue to review! Thank you!**

Two days after the truth was known Sherlock and John made their way to Scotland Yard. News had surely spread of their recent revelation, Sherlock didn't seem to care as normal but John was unsure of what everyone thought.

Sherlock looked over at John who sat next to him in the cab. John, sensing himself being watched, looked back at Sherlock and Sherlock gave him a small and comforting smile. John smiled back.

The cab pulled up and they paid him and made their way into the station where they were sure a big meeting was taking place that they were going to have to walk into.

Sherlock led the way and found the meeting room for their team. They opened the door and found the familiar faces of the officers sat facing Lestrade who stood at the front. Everyone went silent and stared at them. They seemed to be looking closer at the two men, obviously attempting to see the similarities.

Suddenly a woman in the second row said out loud "It can't be true!" and then looked down at the ground, but a lot of people were nodding in agreement.

"Well it is as we've seen the proof." Sherlock and John said at the same time, making every person look up at them startled.

Sherlock and John looked at their gaping audience and said in unison "What?"

Then Sherlock turned to John and said "Oh, well this could be rather fun."

To which John replied with a snort and a nod.

"It is true, Meryl. Those two were like... freaky super five year olds." Anderson said.

"Sorry... 'Freaky'?" John challenged.

Anderson realised his mistake and stammered "I... I mean..."

John cut him off "Oh, I know what you mean."

"John-"John cut Sherlock off.

"No, Sherlock, you are not a freak!" John said.

Sherlock realised that John had been protecting him rather than himself and sighed "I'm sorry, John, but I think you are the only one with that opinion here."

John huffed and crossed his arms in annoyance "You're not a freak." He mumbled and Lestrade tried to get back into where they were going and what they would be faced with.

"Now, I'll need all of you there working at your best." Lestrade finished.

"We'll be getting a cab as usual, Lestrade." Sherlock said and the twins walked out, Sherlock gave their cabbie the address and they were there before the rest of the team.

The team arrived quickly and found Sherlock and John knelt next to two bodies in a living room, blood was all around the men and they lay facing each other.

Sherlock stood up and was completely silent; John frowned and looked up at him, as did everyone else.

"John." Sherlock said.

John got up and stood next to Sherlock.

The two bodies in front of them were of two men, one with dark blonde hair and the other had brown hair, and one was slightly smaller than the other.

"What is it, Sherlock?" John asked carefully.

"These two men. Are twins." Sherlock said.

"What?" John asked with his eyebrows raised.

"Oh come on, John. Not all twins are identical, I mean look at us! It is obvious by their age, their slight similarities and the few pictures around the room." Sherlock said.

Sherlock pointed at the pictures of family photos and such.

"In most of these photos they are together. As children they are more similar and in some photographs are even wearing the same clothes, it is sometimes common for parents to dress twins in similar or the same clothing. But look, they obviously don't live together, this is a house that only homes one man. The shorter man had been visiting his brother when they were attacked. I see that the taller man tried to push his brother out of harm's way by the footprints in this new carpet." Sherlock said.

"Okay then." John said.

"Don't you see, John? Think, John!" Sherlock said.

John looked into Sherlock's eyes and the puzzles started to fit together.

"Moriarty? You think Moriarty did this?" John asked.

"Think about it, John. Our first case after we find out we're twins. Twins are murdered, not identical and different sizes, much like us. He'd do this; he'd want to scare us." Sherlock said surely.

"Is it a threat or a warning?" John asked in fear.

"I don't think so. He likes to play games, John; he just wants to see us scared. He wants us to see what it would be like if we died." Sherlock said.

John's looked around quietly and his eyes came to rest on a large photograph.

"Oh my God. Sherlock!" John said.

Everyone's attention fell on John who was slowly walking towards a wall. The soldier unhooked the picture from the wall and turned it in his arms to face everyone.

"It's us." John stated.

And so it was. John and Sherlock were about four years old. They were stood in a garden, Harry and Mycroft could be seen running around behind them. Sherlock and John were stood in matching dungarees, both with smiles on their faces and had their arms outstretched as they ran to the person who was behind the camera. They looked very cute.

Sherlock stepped forward, took the picture, placed it face down on the sofa and took the backing off of it. He pulled the picture out and read out what was written on the back.

"Hello cutie-pies, loving the dungarees. It's just a small reminder that I'm still out here. All my death-wishes, Jim." Sherlock read out.

"Sherlock... what do we do?" John asked.

"There's nothing we can do. But wait until he wants to dance again." Sherlock said.

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Sherlock turned to Lestrade and said "Well this case is wrapped up. Moriarty is to blame, there is nothing we can do." And he walked out.

John looked up at the officers and saw their confusion "Its fine." He said and walked out too.

He found Sherlock in a cab, waiting for him to get in too.

They rode in silence for a few moments before John said "I'm not scared."

Sherlock looked across to him and gave a small smile "We probably should be." He said.

"No, we've got each other. We'll be fine." John said.

Sherlock nodded and then went back to staring out of the window.

"Christmas is coming." John commented.

"Yes, I'm sure mum and dad will send us an invitation or phone us. They'll want to celebrate a Christmas together again." Sherlock said.

"And we will." John smiled.

Sherlock smiled and slowly unfolded the picture they had found and looked down at them "It will be a good Christmas this year." Sherlock said.

John looked over at Sherlock and saw a distant look in his eye "What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"I'm still trying to find some memories of us in the past." Sherlock said.

"Found any yet?" John asked.

"Not yet. But I haven't given up yet." Sherlock said.

"I'm just waiting. Usually I remember odd things when my memory is triggered. If there are any memories stored away up here they'll come in time." John said, tapping his forehead.

Sherlock smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you. This is Christmas part 1 of 2.**

As Sherlock and John had been predicting, they were rung by Rose and invited to their parents' new home for Christmas. They had agreed and now, two days before Christmas, they were packing their bags and waiting for Mycroft to send over a car.

By the afternoon they had arrived at their parent's new home. It was a comfortably big house, but it was nice and homey. Harry and Mycroft were already there assuming by two more of Mycroft's cars.

Sherlock and John carried their bags to the doors and knocked. Within a few moments Rose threw open the door and smothered them in hugs and then led them through to the living room where Mycroft, Harry and Hamish were.

Hamish gave them hugs and they all sat around the living room. Harry and Mycroft on one sofa, Sherlock and John on another and Hamish and Rose on another.

"Right, so listen up kiddies, tonight we have invited a lot of old friends around for a get together and Christmas celebration. Ivy will be here, so will some school teachers who we knew well and some old friends from our work... basically a lot of people. So I want you to help us decorate the house a bit more and then get into the suits that I told you to bring." Hamish said.

Throughout the day they put up a Christmas tree and had a lot of laughs. When putting up Christmas banners near the ceiling Sherlock had to carry John on his shoulders while Mycroft had done the same for Harry.

"Left a bit... no, no, no, right a bit... lower... higher... a little more right" Hamish said as he stood back.

Before Hamish could say anything else Harry and John stuck it to the wall and Mycroft and Sherlock lowered them to the ground.

Hamish smiled and shook his head "Come along, suits now!"

The four got dressed and came down. Mycroft wore a suit with a red waist coat and gold tie to make it more festive. Sherlock wore his normal purple shirt and trousers and had deemed it "unnecessary" to spend money on a suit you wear once a year. John had run out of money after buying people Christmas presents (though he and Sherlock had teamed together for most of them this year because of money issues) and had brought jeans but wore a jumper with a reindeer on it. Harry came down in a beautiful red knee-length dress and she twirled in the living room with a smile.

It seemed like as soon as one guest arrived so did everyone else. John and Sherlock had gone to the back garden before they had realized that the guests had arrived and were talking about the case they had just solved and made a few jokes at Anderson who had made a fool of himself on the case.

"We better go in; mum and dad will be annoyed if we're not there to greet the guests." John said.

"No they won't John, they just got us back, they won't shout at us for quite some time." Sherlock said to which John replied with a nod.

They walked in to the living room which had loads of people in it.

Everyone turned to look at them and then noise erupted as they all came forward to greet them. Hamish and Rose had obviously explained in a nutshell what had happened over their lives.

They recognised one person and they both grinned.

"Ivy!" They said at the same time and walked towards her. Her arms were already outstretched and they gave her a hug.

"You're all grown up!" She said "Let me have a proper look at you."

They stood back and she smiled at them.

"So handsome! I've read the blog, John, I love it!" she said.

They spent a while talking to her and then dinner was ready.

The living room was set up so it was a dining room so some people had a table to sit at and some could sit on the sofas.

They were half way through dinner when the television flickered on.

"Oh God." Hamish said in exasperation as Moriarty's face appeared.

"Evening lovelies!" Moriarty said.

"What do you want, Moriarty?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh come on, it's Christmas and all I want is you and Johnny-boy's company!" Moriarty said.

"Leave us be." Rose said.

Suddenly a few people who sat near John and Sherlock screamed and scattered further away.

A red dot had appeared on their foreheads.

Sherlock and John sighed but remained calm.

"Now, come on, isn't this what we do at Christmas, go over old memories, share with each other. Christmas is a time for honesty and such. Now you will watch or I will kill your pretty little twins." Moriarty threatened.

Everyone remained silent and the dots disappeared.

"I had a good hard think about what to get my lovely boys for Christmas. And I decided on this." Moriarty said.

The screen changed and Sherlock who was sat in a high school, he was hunched over his work and sat at the front in the corner of class. He got hit in the back of the head by a screwed up piece of paper. He picked it up and unfolded it.

It read:

'Freak. Monster. Inhuman.'

Sherlock stared at it for a few moments and then got up, which surprised the teacher and he put it in the bin and then walked up to his place and continued on with his work.

The screen changed again and Sherlock, about age sixteen was walking along a pavement when a shout of "Oi! Retard!"

Sherlock lowered his head and stared at the floor and carried on walking "Freak! Don't walk away from me!"

Sherlock ignored them still.

A boy of the same age started running for Sherlock but at that moment Mycroft rounded the corner.

"FREAK! This'll show you!" The boy said and whacked Sherlock on the head with his fist.

Sherlock fell to the floor and Mycroft was already running.

Mycroft pushed the boy against a wall.

Sherlock just stood up and kept walking.

Mycroft let the boy go and said boy ran away.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft called after his brother.

After another shout of his name Sherlock turned around.

"We can tell dad, he'll sort it out. You can move schools, it doesn't have to be like this, I promise." Mycroft said.

Sherlock stared at Mycroft.

"It will always be like this. Changing schools won't help. Dad can't do anything." Sherlock said.

"Please, Sherlock." Mycroft pleaded.

At that moment a dribble of blood dripped from where Sherlock had cut himself on his forehead and Sherlock said "Don't tell dad." And he continued walking away.

Hamish sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

The screen changed again and Sherlock was at a crime scene. Donavon and Anderson were laughing at him and said "How can you not understand that? Oh my gosh, you're such a freak!" they said.

Sherlock just stood there.

Then the screen changed again and John was stood opposite Sherlock.

"Brilliant!" he said.

"That's not what people normally say." Sherlock said.

The screen flicked back to Moriarty "Poor Sherlock Holmes, the bullied little boy and bullied still." Moriarty laughed.

"I don't care what people think about me." Sherlock said defiantly.

"Oh really?" Moriarty asked.

The screen changed to John stood in their living room while Sherlock sat in his arm chair.

"I've disappointed you." Sherlock stated.

"Yep, good... good deduction." John said.

"Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist and if they did I wouldn't be one of them." Sherlock said

Then it changed again and they were in a bank office.

"This is my friend, John Watson." Sherlock introduced John to a man.

"Friend?" the man asked, surprised.

"Colleague." John stated and Sherlock's face seemed to fall slightly.

"You try to impress John. You care what John thinks." Moriarty's voice said.

The screen changed to John and Sherlock stood in a grave yard. John was walking away from Sherlock and stopped when Sherlock said "Listen, John, what I said before I meant it. I don't have friends. I've just got one." He said.

The screen faded back to Moriarty.

"And assuming you had to re-watch all those taunts, I suppose I can be nice and show you this." Moriarty said.

Sherlock and John, probably about four years old were lying in their small beds in their room. John appeared to be falling asleep but Sherlock lay on his back, wide awake.

"John?" he called out.

John woke fully and sat up at seeing his twin's face. He walked to the side of Sherlock's bed.

"What is wrong?" John asked.

Sherlock looked like he was trying to talk, but he couldn't.

John sighed, gestured for Sherlock to budge up and lay down next to him.

"Is it about those bullies at school?" John asked, facing Sherlock.

Sherlock turned his face to look at John.

"They said I am a freak." Sherlock said.

"They're wrong." John said.

"But lots of people said it." Sherlock stated.

"I know you the best out of all of them. You aren't a freak, Sherlock. You're my little brother, you can sometimes say the wrong thing to people who are upset, but you don't mean to upset people. You're always nice to me and you're very clever and you like to help me and I like to help you. I'm right. You're not a freak." John said, leaving no room for argument.

"Thank you for telling them to stop being mean, John." Sherlock said.

"You don't have to thank me. I don't like any of them anyway. I'll look after you, Sherlock." John said and yawned.

Sherlock smiled and they both fell asleep.

But then the screen changed again, Sherlock was stood in the living room with his dressing gown on. He was smiling at something then he faced the audience and there was an almighty BANG! and shattering of glass. The windows shattered, smoke filled the room and Sherlock was thrown forward.

The screen turned off with a shout of "MERRY CHRISTMAS!" and Sherlock stood up.

"Sherlock, we're not leaving." John said, also standing.

"Tell me, good Doctor, why on Earth would you think I am going home?" Sherlock asked.

"Because, good detective, I know you. We will stay here and Moriarty will not ruin this Christmas for us." John said.

"Fine. I will be in my room." Sherlock informed them and left.

John sighed and followed him.

He found Sherlock sat on the edge of his made bed, plucking at the strings on his violin that he had refused to leave behind.

John sat on the desk chair in the corner of the room and they were quiet for a few moments.

"Nobody in that room thinks you are a freak, Sherlock." John said

"Yes they do, John." Sherlock said.

"Well, I know five people who don't." John said.

"I don't need people, John. And I do not care what people's opinions are of me." Sherlock said.

"Well, I didn't say you did. I'm just saying... me, Harry, Mycroft, Mum and dad, we all understand that you are who you are and we wouldn't change you." John said and walked out.

The party continued after everyone got over the shock and John socialised, though was caught a few times by Hamish, Mycroft and Rose, who had been watching John out of the corner of their eyes, looking for Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't come down for the rest of the evening.

**To be Continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Sorry for the late update! This is Christmas part 2 of 2! I hope you enjoy and please review!**

On Christmas morning Harry managed to wake everyone up, running into their rooms and shouting at them to get up. They all put dressing gowns and slippers on and made their way to the living room where they had put their presents for each other under the tree.

Harry was sat next to the tree just buzzing with excitement, Sherlock and John went to their couch, Mycroft sat on an armchair and Hamish and Rose sat on their sofa.

"Open mine first!" Harry said, passing the first to Sherlock.

Sherlock ripped the wrapping paper and found a magnifying glass and a deerstalker.

Everyone laughed and Sherlock smiled well naturedly and put them to the side.

Harry passed the next to John who opened it eagerly and found a stethoscope and a pen and paper.

"For notes before you write your adventures on the blog!" Harry gestured to the notepad.

John smiled and gave her a hug.

John put the stethoscope in his ears and said "Let us see, does Sherlock have a heart? I will prove Anderson and Donovan wrong!" and he placed the metal over Sherlock's heart and listened to the 'thump thump' for a few moments and then pulled it away and took it off "He does!"

Everyone smiled and Harry passed a present to Mycroft, it was an umbrella, but it was small and folded up. Mycroft laughed but didn't open it up.

"Still believe in superstition, Mycroft?" Sherlock teased.

"Not here, Sherlock." John warned.

Harry passed a joint present to her mum and dad and Rose opened it. It was a camera.

"So you can create a new photo album for a new chapter of all our lives now we're back together." Harry said and gave them a hug.

"Thank you, darling." Rose smiled and Hamish nodded.

"Me and Sherlock got you all joint presents because Sherlock here put the heating on full for a whole week, wouldn't let me turn it off and our heating bill was too much." John said.

"It was an experiment!" Sherlock said.

"I had to work overtime and I had to carry your unconscious body downstairs when you passed out from the heat!" John said.

"And I said thank you for that!" Sherlock said.

"Anyway, here you go!" John said and passed their present to Harry.

It was a diary "I found that writing things down really helps." John said.

"Thank you! I'd actually been considering starting a diary!" Harry said and gave them both a hug.

They passed the next present to Mycroft.

"This was mostly Sherlock's idea!" John said as Mycroft opened the envelope and then the Christmas card.

"A gift card for the cake shop." Mycroft said but he gave a small smile while they all laughed well naturedly at the joke.

John passed the next present to their parents, Hamish opened it and smiled.

"This was a joint idea. Sherlock said that parents have a lot of sentimentality to their children and things they make or do on their own." John explained.

It was a folder of print outs of all of the cases that they had solved together, all of John's blog entries.

"It's lovely! We will read that together tonight!" Rose smiled and gave them both a hug then Hamish did the same.

Mycroft had brought them all a ticket to the theatre for later on in the upcoming year.

Hamish and Rose brought Mycroft a painting which they had known he had wanted.

"You like art?" John asked.

"Yes, but I have little time for luxuries." Mycroft said.

They brought Harry a new mobile phone as they knew she was having trouble with her ancient one.

Harry squealed and gave them tight hugs.

They brought John and Sherlock a shared present. They opened it and found an iPod and a doc.

"We saw that you didn't have one and we know you both like music to some level and we thought you'd like it." Rose explained.

John grinned and as Sherlock started to speak he jumped on him, sending them tumbling to the ground. John sat on Sherlock's stomach and put a hand on Sherlock's mouth.

"Don't be mean." John said.

"m mmhmm mhmm m m mmn." Sherlock said, his voice muffled by John's hand.

John cautiously removed his hand "I wasn't going to be mean. Now get off!"

"Promise me you'll be nice." John said.

"Don't you trust me?" Sherlock asked.

"With my life, yes. With a social situation, no." John stated truthfully.

"Okay, I promise!" Sherlock said and John got off his brother and helped him up.

"We love it! I saw one of these iPod things in a shop window and wanted one, but we couldn't afford it." John grinned.

"I want to put my music on it first." Sherlock said.

"No, I want to put my music on it first!" John protested.

"Youngest first! Like it said in the rules of Cluedo!" Sherlock said.

"Oh, so you listen to that rule but you still think the victim killed himself!" John said, his voice raising.

"It is the only possible solution, John! I told you!" Sherlock shouted.

"And I said it is not in the rules!" John shouted.

"THE RULES ARE WRONG!" Sherlock shouted.

"Exactly! So I will put my music on it first!" John stated.

Sherlock curled up, facing away from John.

"Come on now, boys. No fighting, it's Christmas. Now, we will go and sit at the computer today and put both of your music on it." Hamish reasoned.

"What do you want to put on it first?" Rose asked.

"Florence and the machine." They said in unison.

Sherlock sat up, they both looked at each other and broke out into laughter.

"I never took you of a fan of her music, Sherlock." John said.

"I like both her lyrics and the many instruments she uses. It is clever." Sherlock said.

John smiled.

"Now hug and say sorry for earlier." Rose said.

"Sorry." John said.

"Sorry." Sherlock replied and they gave each other a hug and then returned to looking at their present.

A few days later they had made it home and were both listening to their new iPod, nodding their heads along with the music as John blogged and Sherlock read.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review, thank you! Any requests or prompts are welcome This is a 2 part drabble again. So this is Part 1 of 2.**

Sherlock knelt next to the body, deducing all that he could while the yarders stood awaiting his answers as to why this man died. John stood behind him after he had given Sherlock his medical opinion and Lestrade stood next to him waiting for Sherlock to get his deductions.

Nobody noticed the black car pull up or the tall man with an umbrella get out, they were all waiting for Sherlock.

Mycroft walked towards his little brothers and then stood beside John and said "Brother, dear, I would like you to accompany me with-"John cut Mycroft off with a "No" and walked back towards Sherlock.

Sherlock stood and turned to face his eldest brother while John stood next to him.

"Who's this?" Dimmock asked, who had been here because of the tough case.

"This is our brother." Sherlock stated and then stared at his brother.

"You're not going to kidnap me, are you? Because I thought that would stop now we knew." John said.

"John, I never kidnapped you. You came willingly." Mycroft said.

"Oh, willingly, of course. So, the camera turning away from me, the stalking me with every phone I passed going off, that wasn't a threat, that was an open invitation." John said sarcastically.

Mycroft smirked and Sherlock said "Well, we're busy, so you can go back to running the government."

"Sherlock, I need both you and John to-"Sherlock cut him off again.

"You will not control us, Mycroft. I think we've had enough of that in our lives." Sherlock said.

"I need to t-"John cut Mycroft off this time.

"So does our... revelation... mean you'll want to see us more?" he asked.

"Harry's drinking again!" Mycroft shouted, making sure neither of the twins could cut him off.

John and Sherlock both went still and then John pinched the bridge of his nose and turned towards Sherlock who put his hand on John's shoulder. The consulting detective knew that John would be taking this very badly. Harry had been doing so well and to be honest, John knew Harry more than Mycroft and Sherlock.

The yarders seemed rather confused as to who Harry was, except those who had met Harry at the twins' party.

"I'm trying to persuade her to go to a rehabilitation centre, but she won't leave her flat." Mycroft explained further.

"Well, we have to go. She can't get back into the booze; every time she does it's harder for her to get clean again." John said.

"John, we can't leave, we have a case to solve." Sherlock said.

John pulled away from Sherlock's hand on his shoulder sharply and glared at his twin.

"Excuse me?" John asked.

"We need to finish this case then we can worry about Harry." Sherlock stated.

"Well my sister is a lot more important to me than a case, so I apologise, Sherlock, but I am going to look after my big sister. Stay here and do your case if you want!" John shouted, angry at his brother.

"John, you know me, I thought you'd understand." Sherlock frowned.

"Yes, stupid me, so the case comes before family, I get it. So what if we're in the middle of a case, I get knocked out, in serious need of medical attention, but oh no, the case comes first so you leave me bleeding in an alley-way to die so you can catch the criminal. But sorry, I should have seen it coming, family comes after the case." John said and went storming to Mycroft and was making his way towards the car when Sherlock said "John!"

John turned back, anger running through him that made the yarders shrink back but they couldn't take their eyes off of the scene.

Sherlock and John stood face to face and John said "I always put you first, Sherlock! Always! If you need me, I'm there, always."

"John, this has nothing to do with you." John said.

"For a genius you can be an idiot sometimes. Yes, Sherlock, I understand that you may not have much of an attachment to Harry because you don't really know her. But what about me? Have you thought that maybe I'm upset, my sister, who I have tried to take care of through our lives despite us not getting along a lot, has just got back into alcohol again, she is going to have a lot of trouble, and I will have to be there for her, and maybe, just maybe, I need a little bit of support from my brother. I've been through this so many times on my own before Afghanistan and because of my..." John looked around and leaned into Sherlock and said a little more quietly "Post traumatic stress disorder... I really don't think I can do it now. But I'll be there for her anyway. And I thought that there was a small chance that not just as my brother, but as my best friend, you would be there for me and her too. But don't worry; I'm just going to have to get on with this." John said and walked back to Mycroft who put a hand on John's shoulder in support and led his little brother to the car.

John was silent as he sat next to Mycroft in the car.

"Look, John, you know Sherlock-"Mycroft was yet again cut off by one of his little brothers.

"Yes, I know Sherlock, thank you. Now, tell me about Harry." John said stiffly.

**To Be Continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Part 2 of 2. I am so sorry for the delay. I actually shouldn't even be writing this chapter right now because I have a massive Maths exam tomorrow. But I wanted to keep you all pleased, so here we are. Please review! Thank you!**

John and Mycroft had managed to get Harry to sleep. She was so drunk and drowsy that she just fell into bed. Mycroft and John sat in her living room in quiet.

"I really thought maybe he'd..." John couldn't finish his sentence.

Mycroft, who sat in an opposite armchair to John, sighed.

"John, Sherlock has always been this way. His work has always come first, ever since he was a teenager he has been very fixated on things rather than people. I mean, with you, you are a priority of his, a very high priority, but sometimes he doesn't see the importance of something that we might find important. For example, he doesn't find Harry's condition important because he knows we will be there for her and she should pull through with the right help. But if you had been kidnapped he wouldn't rest till you were back with us and safe. That is just the way he is." Mycroft said.

"But she is his sister. He must care!" John said.

"John, he does care. Deep down, however much he dislikes it, he does care. Look, you know him better than anyone. Despite the many more years I have spent with him, you understand him like nobody else can." Mycroft said.

John nodded and closed his eyes. Thinking about Sherlock, about Harry, just trying to understand and deal with the situation.

"My?" John asked, using Mycroft's childhood nickname that was becoming more familiar to him.

"Yes?" Mycroft asked.

"I think... maybe he finds it difficult to come and look after Harry because he himself was in a similar situation with the drugs and he doesn't want to be triggered back into them or he doesn't want to face what he was probably like all those years ago." John suggested.

Mycroft's eyebrows rose in surprise and understanding.

"It is a very possible reason, John. Our brother has always been extremely secretive about what goes through his head and his motives for his actions. But maybe you've cracked it." Mycroft said.

"Or maybe he really doesn't understand the meaning of 'important'." John added.

Mycroft gave a small smile and they fell back into silence.

"So we can get Harry back into rehab soon and if all goes well she should be okay." John said.

Mycroft nodded.

At that moment they heard somebody picking the lock on the front door.

"It is Sherlock." Mycroft reassured John.

John nodded and put his grumpy face on.

Within one minute Sherlock stepped into Harry's living room and said "The case is solved. Is Harry asleep?" he asked.

"Yes." Mycroft answered, but John remained silent as his twin sat next to him on the sofa.

"So, John, the silent treatment, really?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, I can already predict that this conversation is going to be very slow. Sherlock, is it true that you chose the case above Harry because you didn't want to see an addict?" Mycroft asked bluntly.

Sherlock looked shocked.

"I'll take that as a yes." Mycroft commented.

"How do you know?" Sherlock asked.

"I didn't. John worked it out." Mycroft said.

Sherlock looked over at John.

"I'm not completely stupid, Sherlock." John said and left the room to make some tea to calm himself down.

"Listen, Sherlock. I'll take care of Harry. You take John home; you've obviously noticed his slight limp because of stress. Just... be careful." Mycroft advised.

Sherlock merely nodded and went to the kitchen.

"John, Mycroft says he'll sort everything out tonight and I'm to take you home." Sherlock said.

"I will not leave Harry." John stated.

Sherlock knew from John's tone that there was no room for argument.

"There's nowhere you can stay. Her flat is rather small." Sherlock pointed out.

"I'll take the sofa. I'm sure Mycroft will find some place to sleep or maybe he'll go home for a bit. You can go home too." John said.

"I'm staying with you." Sherlock said.

"Why?" John asked.

Sherlock was silent so John said "Why were you so hesitant back at the crime scene but you're okay now?"

"Because... you were right, John... I must congratulate you on figuring it out. I didn't want to see Harry because I feared that... well; I just didn't want to see an addict like me. But... John you said you would always be there for me, is that true now?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes." John stated.

"Well, if you're here... maybe it won't be too bad." Sherlock said.

John turned to look at him and finally sighed and said "Are you sure?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded and they returned to the living room. John fell asleep on the sofa and Sherlock sat in an awkward-to-look-at position. He sat next to the sofa, his legs were crossed and his back rested against the sofa while his neck was tilted back and his head was rested partially on John's ankle and partially on the sofa cushions.

Mycroft was still awake and texting to sort out Harry's rehab.

He looked over at his two younger siblings and gave a small chuckle when they both lifted their left hand up to scratch their temple and then the arm dropped.

"They never change." He muttered.

The next day they had managed to get Harry into rehab. She put up a fight and tears flowed, but in the end she went. She felt so much support with all her brothers there, though Sherlock was very distant and John kept a good eye on him.

Rose and Hamish were very proud that their sons had worked together to help their sister. They themselves were planning to visit Harry as soon as they could.

John eventually went home with a bit of persuasion from Sherlock and they had a proper meal and Sherlock even tried to learn how to play Snakes and Ladders. It went well at the beginning but soon enough Sherlock was losing and he went into another one of his rants about the rules being wrong and John quickly packed away the game so that it didn't end up with a bullet hole in it like his chess set.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review. I really want to know what you think. Any prompts would be considered. Thank you!**

John had just got in from doing the shopping, cooked and ate dinner with Sherlock (who only ate three mouthfuls) and then limped over to his seat to watch some television. Sherlock lay on the sofa in his thinking pose.

John's limp had returned as he had been haunted by a dream... well, a nightmare, just last night. He had been extremely agitated throughout the day, feeling as if he was on the verge of a panic attack from his post traumatic stress disorder.

Sherlock had been subtly watching his twin throughout the day. He had heard John's panicked cries last night and just as he was going to get up and calm his brother down the cries stopped and John had seemingly managed to calm himself down. But Sherlock had noticed John's inability to pick things up with his left hand because of the tremor and his limp that had returned. He knew there was a possibility that John could fall into a panic attack and Sherlock was going to help his brother if he did.

It was quite calm in the flat as the low mumble of the television rang around the living room. But all hell broke loose when the door downstairs slammed open with a bang far too loud for the wall not to be marked.

Then there were footsteps thumping up the stairs and then the last door was slammed open to reveal Lestrade, Anderson, Donovan and a team of other officers.

But Sherlock couldn't care less because John had just fallen to the floor, covering his head in his hands and curling up on his side, his breathing was erratic.

Sherlock ran across the room and knelt in front of John, placing a delicate hand on one of his brother's hand. John was shaking his head and moaning in denial.

"John." Sherlock called out gently.

The police had stopped and were now moving closer with looks of concern on their faces.

"What's wrong with him?" Anderson asked.

Sherlock looked up with a look of pure loathing.

"You did this. You and your 'drug busts' and your stomping. And now my brother is having a panic attack, so I would appreciate it if you at least show a little compassion and remain quiet." Sherlock spat, but quietly.

The group did as told and Sherlock gently stroked John's hair and put his other hand on John's back.

John was tense and uncontrollably shaking.

"John, it's alright. Just take deep breaths. Just listen to my voice and know that you're safe." Sherlock said.

John's breathing was easing slightly and he took one hand away from his face and he could see Sherlock.

"Are you with me, John?" Sherlock asked.

"It isn't real." John said.

"What isn't real?" Sherlock asked.

"The gunshots." John stated.

"Good, John. That's right. Do you think you can stand up?" Sherlock asked, taking the other hand away from John's face.

John shakily nodded and Sherlock helped him sit up slowly. John was still shaking like a leaf as Sherlock helped him stand up.

John hadn't noticed the yarders in their house yet so as he turned and was met by many eyes he cried out and fell back into Sherlock, who caught him as John tried to push as far into Sherlock and as far away from the intruders as possible.

As John hid in Sherlock's pyjama shirt Sherlock said "It's alright, John. It's Lestrade and the yarders. They won't hurt you."

John, who was gripping onto Sherlock like a lifeline hesitantly looked at the yarders and then up at Sherlock.

"I... I'm sorry." John said.

"I know, and you shouldn't be. It is perfectly normal for you to panic after your nightmare. I did notice your PTSD was flaring up today." Sherlock said.

"You... you heard my nightmare?" John asked.

"Yes. Your room is just above mine and your floor and my ceiling is not soundproof." Sherlock explained.

"I'm sorry." John repeated.

"No need to be. I was up anyway. And I apologise for not assisting you with your distress last night. But you quietened down when I was about to get up." Sherlock said.

"You... you never apologise." John said.

"Incorrect, John. I do apologise to people who deserve it." Sherlock said with a small smile.

"We're sorry... but Sherlock, we need your help and you have been so un-cooperative." Lestrade said.

"Is it really that urgent?" Sherlock asked.

Lestrade nodded seriously.

"Well, okay then. John, I think you should go to bed. I think it would be unwise for you to visit a crime scene in your current condition." Sherlock advised.

"And... and you're going to leave me?" John asked.

Sherlock looked into his brother's eyes and saw the fear that the heavily breathing man was attempting to hide. He couldn't leave John.

During Sherlock's thoughts John seemed to have taken a leap and was trying to explain why Sherlock needed to stay.

"You see... if it gets worse I might totally... freak out and I don't know what I might do. I won't remember what I did either. Once... when I was on my own... just after I came back... I completely destroyed the room I had been staying in. You can go if... you really want to. I'm not stopping you. I just... I think it would be unsafe for me to be left alone." John tried to explain, though he still was very jerky and agitated.

Sherlock, who still held a lot of John's weight up while his brother held onto him, looked at the pleading faces of the officers and knew exactly what he wanted and needed to do.

"Lestrade, I will be staying at Baker Street now and if you need my help and you have some pictures already from the crime scene then wait for me here. I'll be down soon. Come along, John, you need to rest. Do you want some tea?" Sherlock asked.

"You'll stay?" John asked.

Sherlock simply nodded and helped John limp out of the room.

"I don't think I can... the stairs... my leg." John said, embarrassed.

"There is no need to be embarrassed, John. It's fine." Sherlock said.

"You can use my room. And I have a chair. I gather I won't be sleeping tonight, so if you need my company then I can sit in with you." Sherlock said.

"You'd do that for me?" John asked.

"You do many things for me, John. And although I may not show it, I do care about you. I thought this was what people did for their siblings?" Sherlock frowned.

"Well... yes, it is. I've sat in with Harry many times. Just... thank you." John said.

Sherlock gave a small smile which was returned and he helped John into bed.

"You're wearing comfy clothes, you don't need pyjamas, correct?" Sherlock asked.

John shook his head and settled down into the pillows.

"Hey, how come you have the comfier bed than me?" John asked with a small smile.

"I moved in first!" Sherlock protested with a chuckle and he put the bed-side table lamp on then turned the main lights off.

John was slowly relaxing with the familiar smell of Sherlock muffling the thoughts of Afghanistan and the memories it was trying to haunt him with.

"Do you wish me to stay?" Sherlock asked.

"Don' min'..." John mumbled as he fell into a dream land.

Sherlock stayed for a few moments but recognized that John was in fact sleeping due to his heavy breathing and his fluttering eye lids. He must be dreaming too. Sherlock just hoped that it wasn't a nightmare.

Sherlock left the door open slightly so he could hear John and he walked back into his living room full of police officers. Many had found places to perch. Lestrade was sitting on the sofa with some case notes with him. Sherlock sat next to him.

"Is he okay?" Lestrade asked.

"Well, he should improve. I've made sure I can hear him because he may have a nightmare. But he'll be okay soon enough. John's a fighter." Sherlock said, reassuring himself just as much as everyone else. He hated seen strong soldier John reduced to vulnerable traumatised John.

They worked for a few hours. Luckily Lestrade had already visited the crime scene and taken many pictures. Half the officers had gone back to the yard but there were still yarders scattered around the living room.

Sherlock was in the middle of explaining when he heard a thump from his room. It was so loud that everyone went silent. Sherlock stood up and his ears were listening intently.

Then there was the sound of John shouting out. His voice was strangled and pain-filled.

Sherlock ran to his room and quickly entered to find John on the floor, still in the grips of a nightmare. He was sweating and shaking and tears slipped down his face.

Sherlock knelt next to his distressed brother and gently pulled him up and into a hug, hopefully making him feel safer and he would wake up.

John seemed very disorientated when he woke up. Tears still fell and he gripped onto Sherlock.

"It's alright, John. It's okay now." Sherlock promised.

"I couldn't save anyone... they all died..." John choked out, heaving with sobs.

Sherlock held John tightly.

"It's alright, John. You aren't there anymore." Sherlock said reassuringly.

John slowly nodded "I... I know..." he said.

"What do you need?" Sherlock asked.

"Tea... and please don't leave me on my own." John said.

"Okay." Sherlock conceded and helped John into the kitchen where John splashed some water onto his face while Sherlock made tea.

Once they moved to the living room Sherlock and John sat side by side on the couch. John tiredly sipped his tea and watched as Sherlock continued on with his case.

It was extraordinary. Sherlock was quite an oddity. But a brilliant oddity. John knew that nothing much had changed for Sherlock with their relation revelation. Something like that wouldn't make Sherlock feel any differently about John, and it hadn't for John either. Deep down they had loved each other like brothers all along. So Sherlock had done all of this for his brother today, and he probably would have done it before Moriarty told them who they really were.

John fell into a doze, his empty tea mug just about still hanging on to John's fingers while the army doctor dozed against Sherlock's side. Sherlock made no move to remove John from his shoulder, he just continued on with the case. He knew John would be just fine.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: I've decided because of the lack of interest and therefore me having no inspiration I will end these drabbles at chapter 10. Sorry. Please review though.**

John and Sherlock were both not feeling too great. For a whole day they had had a fever, been vomiting, stomach cramps, it just wasn't great.

Sherlock lay in his own bed while John was upstairs in his. They had caught some sort of bug.

There was the sound of a door opening downstairs and two pairs of feet shuffling around. Sherlock recognised them as his parents.

Rose entered his room and smiled kindly "I heard from Mrs Hudson that you two were ill, so me and your father are here to take care of you. Your dad has just gone up to get John. You stay here... hold on, what are you wearing?" Rose asked.

"Just pyjama trousers. I got too hot for the shirt." Sherlock said.

"Good." Rose smiled and took a seat on a chair.

A moment later and the door opened again to reveal John actually being carried by Hamish.

"Two things. One, John, are you really that ill? And two, dad, how can you carry him, you're old?" Sherlock asked.

Hamish lay John on the bed next to Sherlock. John had both a shirt and trousers on and Hamish helped him under the covers.

"I'll answer your questions, son. To the first, John did try to walk, but he fell down three steps and couldn't keep himself standing. And to answer your second question, you know full well that I have kept in shape despite my age." Hamish said.

Sherlock nodded.

"Why did you move me here?" John asked tiredly.

"So that we both don't have to run up and down the stairs. Also, if we are to stay overnight then we need a bed to stay in." Rose answered.

John moaned and wrapped his arms around his stomach.

"When was the last time you took any medicine?" Hamish asked.

"Only half an hour ago. I made Sherlock take it then too." John answered and turned on his side.

"Okay, well you two go to sleep. It is wiser to sleep through most of an illness like this." Hamish said.

Sherlock turned over so he was facing away from John and closed his eyes.

"It hurts." John moaned.

"It really hurts." Sherlock added.

Hamish nodded to Rose and they both sat on either side of Sherlock and John.

Rose sat next to Sherlock and gently ran her hands through his hair. John rolled onto his stomach and Hamish soothingly rubbed John's back.

"We're not five, you know." John said.

"We are aware of that, thank you, but this is what we did for you when you were ill then and it worked a treat on getting you back to sleep." Hamish said.

John sighed and gave in. He honestly did feel a lot more relaxed with someone rubbing his back.

Sherlock fell asleep very quickly and John slowly fell into dream land himself.

Hamish and Rose had to stay the night, they often awoke to one of their children running to the bathroom to throw up, at around five o'clock in the morning they heard Sherlock's familiar voice shouting up to them.

"Mum? Dad?" he called.

The two made their way to the 'sick' room and found Sherlock sat up, rubbing John's back as Hamish had only a few hours ago. John looked a lot worse than Sherlock, which was saying something. John was pale, panting and seemed to be in great pain.

Rose rushed forward and put a hand on his forehead.

"John, what's wrong?" she worried.

"This... is... perfectly normal... trust me... I'm a doctor... but it doesn't mean it doesn't... bloody... hurt..." John said.

"I think you're allowed to take another dose of pain killers now, John." Hamish said, holding out two pills.

John grabbed them clumsily and was in so much pain that he didn't even think about water, he just swallowed them on their own.

He flopped back down and sighed.

"You'll feel better soon. Just sleep." Hamish said.

"It's kind of hard when I feel like this." John grumbled.

Sherlock lay back down now he knew John was okay again, he had awoken with John squirming next to him and became distressed at John being so unwell.

In two days they were both moderately okay. Rose and Hamish reluctantly had to leave them when they were well enough to take care of themselves, but they knew that Sherlock and John were just fine on their own.

John ensured that Sherlock ate to keep his strength up and Sherlock occasionally went upstairs to check on John. John was stubborn that he was 'fine'. But his version of 'fine' wasn't exactly 'fine'.

But they were alright on their own. John even managed to keep Sherlock from blowing holes in the wall or anything like that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: I am so sorry for the late update, I just haven't had any inspiration for this fic recently and I've been really busy. Please review. Thank you!**

Sherlock came home from a case expecting to find John just back from work, probably sat in his chair with his traditional cup of tea.

Sherlock flopped down on the couch and turned his head to ask John a question but found his twin's seat empty. He frowned.

"John?" he called out.

Silence rang through the flat.

"JOHN!" Sherlock shouted.

Sherlock knew something was wrong. John should have been home from work twenty minutes ago.

Sherlock knew that there was nobody else in their flat so he quickly got his mobile out and called John's mobile. He tried three times but there was no answer. He even rang his brother's work place and they told him he had left at normal time.

Sherlock felt like something was wrong. It was instinct to him. This wasn't like his deductions where he knew facts. This was intuition. He felt like something was seriously wrong. So he rang the people he knew could help.

In ten minutes Mycroft, Hamish, Rose and Harry (who was doing really well on the no-booze situation) arrived. Their parents had got a helicopter and Mycroft and Harry had arrived under blue lights. Lestrade arrived five minutes after.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" Mycroft asked his manic brother who was rocking back and forth on his arm chair.

"John's missing!" Sherlock said, fear dripping from every syllable. This scared the occupants of the room to see the controlled man so... well, uncontrolled.

"I've tried calling him. He left work at normal time, but he wasn't here when I got back." Sherlock said.

"Maybe he-"Sherlock cut Lestrade off.

"I know something's wrong. He's my brother and I can feel it. Something is very wrong. Moriarty's probably done what he promised. He's probably kidnapped John. I know you think I'm mad, that I have no proof, but I can feel it! Something's wrong!" Sherlock stressed.

He looked at the blank faces of his family and friend.

"You don't believe me." Sherlock stated, a hint of loss and hopelessness in his voice.

"It's not that, hone-"Sherlock cut Rose off.

"John would have believed me! He had faith in me! Fine, you don't believe me. I will find my brother on my own then. I just thought that we could get to him quicker with more of us. But I see I'll have to do this on my own. When I find him, and I will find him, you are to blame for the extensive injuries he may have obtained. Not just Moriarty. But all of you too." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock, pleas-"Sherlock cut Hamish off.

"GET OUT OF MY FLAT! GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!" Sherlock screamed.

The group of people sped out of the flat. Sherlock was a danger to be around.

Rose turned to Hamish once they were out of the door "What if he's right?" she whispered.

"The only proof he has is hat John isn't answering his mobile, mother, this is ridiculous. If John's not home in an hour or two, then I will take action."

But what Mycroft didn't take into account was that a lot can happen a few hours.

Sherlock went to his website and found a message left by Moriarty.

'I have your twin. As you know. Come to the place you came close to flames before.' The riddle read.

Sherlock's first thought was the Pool. But just as he put his scarf on and tucked it into his coat another vision clouded his mind. He and John had almost burnt alive when they were just children. The pool was too obvious. He needed to go to the place where the twins had been imprisoned and tested before.

Sherlock hailed a cab and gave it the destination. It was far away and there would be a long walk, but he would make it.

The cabbie dropped him off next to some fields and he made his way as fast as he could towards his destination.

A too-long while later Sherlock was met by a familiar site of the big building. He ran to the door and ran through the corridors.

He came to a sudden halt at the sound of John's screaming. His twin was screaming with pure pain.

Sherlock sprinted towards the noise and ran into a dimly lit room to find John lying on the floor, blood on his clothes, his face, dirt and sweat all over him too. Moriarty stood over John with a manic grin. John had a small knife sticking out of his stomach.

Sherlock had not come unprepared. He wasn't playing games anymore. He didn't want to dance, he didn't want the challenge. He wanted Moriarty dead and his twin safe.

Sherlock reached into his pocket, pulled out John's gun and shot quickly and straight at Moriarty.

Moriarty crumbled to the floor. There was no movement; the man had had no back-up. He had assumed that he would be fine on his own. But now he had a bullet in his brain.

Sherlock ran to John's side and found John still conscious. Sherlock knelt next to him and put his hand on John's cheek.

"John, stay with me. I'm going to get you out of here." Sherlock promised and looked down at the wounds.

Moriarty had stabbed John several times in the stomach, but with a small knife. John was bleeding but breathing and alive. If Sherlock could get him help soon enough then his brother would be fine.

"Sher..." John slurred.

"Its okay, John." Sherlock got his phone out and immediately swore.

"No signal." Sherlock said, panic setting in.

"What... are... we... g-going... to do?" John asked.

"I'm going to carry you. As you carried me all those years ago. You have to stay awake, John. Come on, you can make it through this. We just have to get to the town, there's a taxi waiting for me there. I can get you to a hospital, John. I promise." Sherlock said.

Sherlock put his arm under John's back and under John's knees and lifted.

John let out a shout of pain but soon calmed down.

Sherlock held his brother tightly to him and said "John, take my scarf off of me and press it against your wounds. Don't take the knife out." Sherlock advised.

John sluggishly did as he was instructed and once the scarf was soaking up the blood his head came to rest on Sherlock's shoulder and he relaxed.

If Sherlock managed to get him some help in time, then that would be great. But if John really did die here, he was glad he had his brother with him. That was all he wanted.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: So we have come to my last chapter. I hope you enjoy and please review, it will make my day! Thank you for reading and I hope you have enjoyed doing so. Thank you for everything! **

Sherlock carried John, keeping to a fast pace despite the distance. He tried not to look at the blood soaked scarf that was covering the many wounds and the knife that had been plunged into his brother's stomach.

Strong and brave John Watson (who was in the process of changing his name to Holmes) was surprisingly still conscious. Sherlock continued to talk to him; he needed John to stay awake.

John's head rested on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock could just about make out John's mutterings.

Because of the adrenaline and Sherlock's urgency, they made it to the road a lot quicker than was expected. The taxi was still waiting, as the driver had promised.

The driver's eyes widened when he saw the state John was in from under the street lights. He jumped out and opened the back door for Sherlock to get in.

Sherlock didn't move John around, so he didn't put a seatbelt on and John's limp body sat on Sherlock's lap.

"You're doing so well, John. Just stay awake. The driver will get us to hospital." Sherlock said soothingly after he shouted for the driver to go to the nearest hospital as fast as he could.

The driver drove way past the speed limit, but it was late so there weren't many people around.

The driver parked up and Sherlock quickly made his way into the hospital, John in his arms.

As he approached the automatic doors he heard familiar footsteps behind him and turned to see the whole Holmes family. Mycroft had probably been tracking Sherlock or something.

Sherlock glared at them and held John closer.

John's eyes went from Sherlock to whom his brother was staring at. His eyes met his families but he couldn't say anything. He was in too much pain.

The family looked at John's tired face. John had recognition in his eyes, but his other features just showed pain and fatigue.

"You will stay away from John and me." Sherlock stated firmly and turned to walk into the hospital.

Doctors and nurses quickly swarmed him, he gently lay John's body on a bed and John grabbed his hand just as the doctor's began wheeling him away.

"No, Sherlock, I don't want to be alone!" John shouted.

"I won't leave. I'll wait till you've had surgery and then I'll be by your side as soon as possible. I promise." Sherlock said.

"Brother, I'm scared." John whispered.

"We really need to move." A Doctor urged.

"It'll be okay, John." Sherlock said gently and they lost their grip on each other's bloody hands and John was wheeled away.

Sherlock stood in the waiting room, people around them looking a little shocked at the commotion that had just passed by them.

A nurse put her hand on Sherlock's arm and he pulled away sharply.

"Erm... My name's Sandy. I'm a nurse. What's your name, and what's his?" she asked gently.

After a few moments of silence she pushed a bit more "Sir, I really need your co-operation." She said and led him to a chair. He sat down heavily and she sat next to him with a clipboard, paper and a pen.

"What's your name?" she asked again.

"Sher...Sherlock Holmes." He said hazily.

"And what's the injured man's name?" she asked.

"John. John Watson. But it's going to be changed to Holmes." Sherlock said.

"What is your relation to him?" she asked.

"He's my brother. My twin." Sherlock elaborated.

"Okay then. Well, I'll just give this information to someone so they can get his medical files up and I'll be right back." She said and left.

Sherlock had barely listened to the woman.

All he could think of was John. John's blood was on his hands, on his coat; he could smell it and feel it. John had to be okay. He just had to be. Sherlock couldn't lose him again. But he knew that John was strong, the fact that he had remained conscious all the way here was proof of that.

Somebody cleared their throat in front of him. It was his dad.

Sherlock looked down at his red hands and felt Hamish sit next to him, the familiar comfort of his father by his side did little to reduce his anger for his family. He knew that Mycroft, Rose and Harry were probably nearby, either questioning Doctor's or sat in seats around or something-Sherlock didn't really care.

"Sherlock." Hamish started.

"None of you believed me." Sherlock said, refusing to look at his dad.

"You of all people know that you were making dangerous and slightly irrational accusations back at the flat. We wanted proof, and you could provide us with little of that." Hamish said.

"John could have died. He could have died, dad." Sherlock finally looked up at Hamish and in the corner of his eye he could see the other three members of his family sat on the next bench, listening intently to Sherlock.

"I know." Hamish said gently.

"No. You don't know. None of you believed in me. But I found him. And do you want to know what I did when I saw Moriarty standing over him, John's blood oozing out of his wounds. I took John's gun and shot him dead. And then I picked John up and walked for miles until we managed to get a taxi here. Do you know how that felt? To hold my brother's small and limp body in my arms and tell him that it was going to be okay when I didn't know that for sure. You will never know how it feels. I had to continue to believe in John's will to live. I believed in John, as he believes in me. Whatever happens, we believe in each other. You have failed us as our parents and as our family. I don't want you anywhere near him. I will look after him." Sherlock stated.

"Sherlo-"Sherlock cut his crying mother off.

"No. I don't want any of you near him. He only needs me." Sherlock said.

The group fell into silence at a loss of what to do.

The nurse returned and knelt in front of Sherlock. She tried to take his hands but he yanked them back.

"Mister Holmes, I just want to remove the blood from your hands. I thought it would be unpleasant for it to remain on you." She said.

Sherlock sighed, closed his eyes and offered his hands to her. She took them and wiped the blood away until the only blood on Sherlock was on his coat, which she told him to remove.

Sherlock put his coat in the seat next to him and said to the nurse "Is there any news?"

"None yet, dear. It should be a few hours before he's out of surgery." She informed him and walked away.

A few agonising hours and an extremely restless Sherlock later a Doctor appeared in the waiting room.

"How is he?" Sherlock was first to stand.

"He's done incredibly well. He was lucky, the knife was small and the wounds don't go too deep. None of his main organs were touched but he lost a lot of blood. He's sleeping now, but I can allow one person in." The Doctor explained.

"I'm his mother!" Rose cried.

"I will go." Sherlock said firmly.

The whole family wanted to see John.

"The rest of you may observe from the window to the private room." The Doctor offered.

Sherlock sped after the Doctor and was led to a private room.

Mycroft, Harry, Hamish and Rose all went to the window but Sherlock walked in.

Sherlock gasped. John had tubes and wires attached to him. There were noises coming from the machines and John wore an oxygen mask that made his breathing loud.

Sherlock slowly came and sat next to his brother. John had been cleaned up and wore a hospital gown. Sherlock took John's hand in his and felt comfort in his brother's warm but limp hold.

Hours droned on and eventually John awakens. He doesn't feel much, they must have given him a lot of pain killers. He feels a bit hazy but he can hear a beeping machine and he can feel a solid hand gripping onto his own.

"John." He heard the familiar and relieved voice of his brother. John turned his head to face Sherlock.

"Sherlock." He said, but his voice was muffled by the mask.

"Why is dad, mum, Mycroft and Harry stood at the window, why can't they come in?" John asked.

Sherlock looked over his shoulder at the glad faces of the family who had realised that John was awake.

"I don't want them in here with you, John." Sherlock confessed.

John turned his full attention to his twin and said "Why?"

"They didn't believe in me. I knew something was wrong, and they thought I was being foolish. If your safety lies with them then you would be dead by now." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock, I understand... why you're angry." John breathed deeply, feeling odd because of the drugs "But it's alright. They weren't to know. Just... thank you for saving me."

Sherlock finally smiled "You're welcome." And then added "Do you want me to let them in now?"

John nodded.

Sherlock opened the door and said "I haven't forgiven you, but John has, so you can come in."

The family entered, gently greeting their son and brother as if he was a fragile piece of glass.

They all spoke, John was obviously a lot less coherent than anyone else, but he tried, bless him. Their parents and siblings apologised and John just smiled and nodded.

John is in mid-conversation with Sherlock when the heart monitor's beeping quickened and suddenly John's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he had some sort of fit. His body shaking violently. Sherlock put the oxygen mask back over John's mouth and Harry ran to the corridor "Help! My brother! Please!"

Doctors swarmed in and ushered everyone out. They all stood by the window waiting anxiously for the news.

Sherlock sat on the floor. He kept seeing how John's eyes rolled back into his head and he started shaking and made odd noises. It was scary. It was at times like these that Sherlock detested his brain's abilities. He couldn't help it but John's fit played over and over again in his head.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, it's alright." Rose knelt next to Sherlock, pulling him to her in a hug.

Sherlock only just realised that he was crying. His whole body was shaking with sobs.

"He's fitting. Again and again. In my head." Sherlock explained through his tears and fell into his mother's comforting hold.

"He'll be okay, Sherlock." Hamish reassured his distressed son.

A little while later a Doctor stood before them in the corridor.

"Doctor Watson had a reaction to one of the pain killers that we gave him. It's quite new, but it is normally very effective. He's stable now and the seizure shouldn't happen again.

A week and a half later Sherlock was helping John take one step at a time up the stairs to 221B Baker Street.

Once Sherlock had John seated comfortably on the sofa with tea in his hand he said "Well, have you thought of the title for this adventure in your blog?"

"The Doctoring detective and the end of a psychopath." John tried.

"Too long." Sherlock complained.

"Hey, I'm on morphine! I'm trying my best!" John laughed, winced, and giggled.

The following morning Sherlock entered John's bedroom with some tea, pain killers and a letter.

He put them on John's bedside table and as he saw John awake he put an arm around his twin's back and gently helped him sit us.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Sherlock asked as he passed John the tea after John swallowed the medicine.

"I always feel sorer in the morning, but apart from that I think I'm getting better." John said, sipping his tea.

Sherlock sat next to John on the bed and took the letter he brought up and said "Guess what came in the mail!"

"What is it?" John asked.

"If I'm not mistaken, it's the letter confirming that you are now a Holmes." Sherlock smiled.

"Well open it then! I want my proper name back!" John said eagerly.

Sherlock quickly opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, his eyes skimming over it.

"Good morning, John Hamish Holmes." Sherlock smiled.

John grinned "That's better. All is as it should be. Moriarty's dead. We know the truth. We don't have to live under threat. And we can get back to solving crimes once I'm better." John sighed contently.

About a month later John's stomach now only had scars.

Sherlock came home early from signing some paper work for Lestrade and he found John sat in the living room on the sofa; he had lifted his t-shirt and was looking at his scars. He didn't look happy at all.

Sherlock felt bad for John. He himself had escaped Moriarty without any physical reminders of him on his own body. Though every time he saw John's stomach he would remember, well, he would never forget. But it must be so much worse for John to have the scars littering his abdomen. They had healed nicely; it could be a lot worse. But Sherlock knew that his brother didn't like them.

Sherlock sat down next to John and said quietly "I'm sorry."

John let the shirt fall and covers the scars as he looked up in shock at Sherlock.

"What?" he asked.

"I said I was sorry. For everything Moriarty put you through. I mean, he wanted me, so he went for you." Sherlock explained.

"I don't think it's just me that has to deal with the aftershocks of this." John said, knowing that Sherlock pitied him.

Sherlock frowned.

"Well, you had to give up your cases for a while in order to take care of me, which I know that you sometimes found infuriating. And you lose sleep having to run upstairs when I'm having a nightmare. I can tell that you get a little scared to see me so... scared, which is understandable. We both have to deal with the destruction he caused to our lives. I may not like the scars, but there's nothing I can do about them." John said finally.

"They're not that bad, John. Some people refer to them as a map of strength." Sherlock smiled.

"Thanks, Sherlock." John smiled and rested his tired head on his twin's shoulder.

Their bond grows stronger over the years. They still had rows and disagreements. But they were brothers; they loved each other and they got to spend their whole lives together.

**Author's note: Thanks for reading. I will not be doing any more drabbles or stories of the twins, sorry. Please review!**

**Fantasybean x**


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